Grief changes shape but it never ends.

I’d like to thank my mom for giving me the courage  to speak about this today. I told her it’s scary being that vulnerable because people can be cruel. She told me, “The cruel folks are a handful, but the number of people you could be helping are…well, a number so large you can’t comprehend.”  I hope she’s right. So, here goes nothing.

Early last year, I lost my grandmother, whom I’d grown up with since I was 4. It changed my life. When you’re a kid, it seems like life just goes on and on forever. Death may be something you hear about, but you can’t quite grasp what  it even means.

about; until you're by their side, holding their hand as they fade into something you can't comprehend. That moment will stick with you for the rest of your life, and it will transform you.

Suddenly, your own mortality becomes very real. Cliches like “tomorrow isn’t promised” and “life is short” are no longer quotes you share on Twitter just because they sound true; they get a whole different meaning. It's the nonsense that occurs as you wait for moments that never arrive.

While I’m all for thinking things through, weighing the benefits against the downsides;   the risk against the potential reward, I also know how it’s a slippery slope, and how it can lead to  freezing in inaction; where your whole life starts to feel like a waiting game… the right circumstances, the right time, the right place, the right thing to say, to do.

I like to call it the brick-collector syndrome. It’s when you do research, read, prepare, or worse, just think about the thing you want or need in your life, all of that being “the bricks”, but you’re not building for shit.

Kinda like how I’d been collecting bricks for years before I got the wakeup call I needed and finally got myself a puppy. He’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, and had it not been for the situation I was in, I’d still be waiting. That’s what we often do… we wait. And we wait. And we wait.

We’re promised one thing in life, and that’s the present moment. Therefore, anytime we say “tomorrow”, “next week”, “next year” or “in ten years' ', we’re gambling with… time. I’m not saying “live every day like it’s your last”. In fact, I can stand that quote. What I am saying though, is, “don’t live like you have an unlimited amount of days left, because you don’t.” Like I said, loss changes you. But how?  

I’m still trying to figure that one out, which is why I’m writing this. What I know though is that  our time is limited, and I aspire to spend most of that time in peace and joy with the people I care about, not in conflict and resentment. And I’d like to believe I’ve been making a conscious effort to live by that; By not making a fuss about the small stuff; by apologizing more often; by not staying upset for too long.

I’m still human, and sometimes, my emotions get the best of me, and that’s okay. But to feel something and to act on that feeling are two different things. When it counts, react; when it doesn't, don't, and learn to tell the difference. That is my motto. Nobody thinks to themselves on their deathbed, "Those ridiculous disagreements were totally worth it."

Time doesn’t heal

As time has passed, I’ve come to the realization that time doesn’t heal, it just makes you think about the thing that happened less frequently, and you may start to associate less negative emotion with that event. I believe this is true for all sorts of loss, like breaking up or getting your house destroyed by a natural disaster.

Grief changes shape but it never ends

I don’t think I could’ve worded it any better myself. You continue to live on, but life is never the same. It doesn’t mean you can’t be happy again, you can, just happy in a different way, because you’re different. The initial time following loss feels like uncontrollable bleeding, which means you can’t think of anything else, because, well, there’s fucking blood everywhere, metaphorically speaking.  

With enough time, it turns into a scab, and lastly, into a scar. And while that scar will forever remind you of a time you sometimes wish you could forget, it’s also a testament to love; the love you had for that person, the love they had for you, the love you shared.

I think we’ve all thought to ourselves, after experiencing loss, perhaps just for a split second, that we wish we’d never met that person, and that we wish… we weren’t capable of love. Wouldn’t that be lucky? That way, you’d never have to feel the pain of loss, because one of the saddest truths about life is that every single thing we love, will eventually end in grief.

It took me a moment to comprehend the difference between being unhappy and having a sad life. Voldemort embodies the latter, and I haven’t met anyone who said they’d like to trade lives with him.

I’ll continue to love, obviously, I couldn’t not even if I tried. Those scars are what makes life worth living, in a way, I guess.